


Punch Drunk

by owlways_and_forever



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-06-10 04:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6939256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlways_and_forever/pseuds/owlways_and_forever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma and the new guy on her water polo team get off to a rocky start, but can they get past it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Emma pulled her suit on with the customary wiggle to get the tight garment into place, and shrugged on some sweats over it. She was feeling a bit more nervous than usual, since she hadn’t been to practice in a few weeks, but she knew she would probably get back in the swing of things within the first few minutes. The whole drive over, she couldn’t help but get the feeling that something was going to be different at this practice, but as she parked the car outside the pool, Emma tried to shake the feeling. She gathered her bag from the back seat and marched into the building, pulling her long blonde tresses up into a messy ponytail as she did.

On deck, Emma stripped out of her sweats and hung around, chatting with the other players as they stalled jumping into the cold water. Like most days, Emma was one of the first to hop in, doing a quick few laps before the others joined her. When she felt warm, she grabbed a ball and motioned for Mary Margaret to join her passing. They exchanged their normal idle conversation as they continued warming up, and Emma smiled when they were both tossed the same color caps. She always preferred when she and her friend were on the same team. Emma looked around, trying to see who else she would be playing with, and there were a few she recognized – David, Robin, Jefferson. August was on the other team, with Ruby, Regina, and Leroy. There were a few people whose names she didn’t know, and a few more she hadn’t seen before, but that was nothing new. In the five months she’d been on the team, there had yet to be a practice where she had known every single person.

The scrimmage passed uneventfully, though one of the new guys was a capital J jackass to Emma, trying to tell her how to play, giving her basic advice like she hadn’t been playing water polo for seven years. She may not be the best player, but she still knew what she was doing, and she definitely didn’t deserve to be talked to that way. Still, she brushed it off and made a mental note to give that new guy an “accidental” sucker punch the next time they were on opposing teams, no matter how cute he was.

The gossip was firing up in the locker room by the time Emma joined the other girls with her towel and clothes. Normally, she didn’t pay attention to such things, but something caught her attention.

“Yeah, he just came back from Hungary,” Mary Margaret said to the others. “With everything that’s going on there right now, they’ve stopped issuing visas, so Killian couldn’t keep playing once his was up.”

“That really sucks,” Ruby replied, rubbing her hair dry with the towel, and paying little attention to whether or not the towel was covering anything else.

“Oh please,” Regina scoffed. “It must be so tough for him, having been a professional athlete in Europe. He must really be struggling now.”

“It’s not like you make a ton of money paying water polo anywhere,” Ruby countered, looking defensive. “Though I’m sure he doesn’t have any trouble with the ladies. God, professional athletes are so hot.”

Emma rolled her eyes at the other woman, who was always going on and on about some guy or another. It made sense then, the guy who yelled at her must have been Killian. She could hardly blame a former pro player for getting frustrated at the meager talents of a former college club player. It didn’t quite excuse his behavior, but she understood. She’d be sure to steer clear of him and his curly brown locks in the future.


	2. Chapter 2

This tournament was notorious for its social atmosphere, namely because of the bar crawls that were hosted each night. Emma had been to the tournament with her old team, and had experienced the festivities first hand, so she knew what to expect, and this year, she planned to take full advantage of the night and all the visiting men’s teams. It had been far too long since she’d so much as hooked up with anyone, thanks to a bad breakup, and it felt like it was time to end that streak. So together with Mary Margaret and Ruby, Emma raided her closet for the sexiest bar outfit she could find, and threw back a few shots. They took an uber to the bar and found they were the first there, which meant no cover charge for them, and a few more drinks before anyone else turned up.

August, David, Regina, and a few of the newer players were among the next group to arrive, and Emma smiled as she ran up to David and gave him a big hug. Normally hugs were way out of her comfort zone, but after a few drinks, she was all about the physical contact. David had been one of the first guys on the team to welcome her after she moved there, Mary Margaret having vouched for her, so Emma felt a particular affection for him.

“Hey there, Emma, how’s it going?” he asked jovially, a reddish tinge to his cheeks that indicated she wasn’t the only one who had been pregaming.

“Good, good,” she laughed, pulling Mary Margaret over so they were in a group hug, her drink sloshing around precariously.

“Ooh, David, I just saw my old friend, Aurora,” Mary Margaret simpered, grabbing her boyfriend’s hand and tugging him toward the other end of the bar. “Sorry Emma, we’ll be right back, I just want to say hi.”

“No problem,” Emma answered, smiling as the other two made their way toward a pretty brunette across the room.

Emma leaned against the bar, watching the basketball game on tv and waiting for the bartender to make her drink. She felt the presence of someone next to her, but she kept her focus on the game – there were only a few minutes left, and she really wanted Duke to win, if they did she’d get about three hundred dollars from the pool she’d entered.

“So, who are you rooting for?” the person next to her asked, and Emma finally tore her eyes away from the screen to see who it was. Next to her stood one of the guys from her team, she recognized him, but they’d never really spoken. He had messy dark hair, matching scruff, and the most deliciously blue eyes she’d ever seen. That, coupled with his British accent, intrigued Emma, and she found herself decidedly not unwilling to spend some time talking to him.

“Duke,” she told him with a smile. “I win my pool if they beat Kentucky.”

“Ah, you should hang out with August then,” he replied, and Emma flashed him a confused look. “He went to Duke, big basketball fan. You know that’s why he named his pup Grayson?”

“No, I had no idea!” Emma laughed. She had seen August’s dog on numerous occasions, and it was absolutely adorable, but she had no clue that’s where its name came from.

“Oh yeah. I hear August was one of those crazy fans who camped out for months and painted his entire chest for games and such,” he said with a mischievous wink.

“You know, I’m actually kind of not surprised,” Emma said in response, shaking her head slightly. “Sorry, I’m not sure we’ve actually been introduced.”

“I’m Killian,” he grinned, reaching out to shake her hand.

“Emma,” she answered, and he nodded.

“I know, you’re friends with Mary Margaret and David, that’s practically like being a popular kid in high school,” he teased, and Emma couldn’t help but laugh.

“So Killian, you’re relatively new to the team. What brings you to Boston?” she asked, curious.

“Looking for a job, and it seemed as good a place as any. And my brother lives here.” He nodded toward a man with sandy blonde hair a little way away.

“Where’d you live before Boston?” Emma inquired, unable to stop herself. It was in her nature to ask questions, even when drunk.

“Hungary,” he chuckled, and Emma’s eyes widened.

“That’s amazing!” she exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted to go there. What did you do in Hungary?”

“I played water polo,” he answered quietly, torn between being amused and embarrassed. His fingers scratched idly behind his ear and a red flush crept over his cheeks. Emma’s jaw dropped as her alcohol-addled mind finally made the connection and she realized she’d had him confused for someone else the whole time.

“You’re the pro player?” she clarified, dread creeping through her and settling in her stomach.

“Aye, why?” he responded.

“I may have gotten you confused with one of the other guys,” Emma admitted, dragging her hand over her face. “And I may have bad-mouthed you to some of the girls as a result.”

“Is that so?” he laughed lightly, clearly not too distressed by the news.

“Yeah, you – well, I guess not you, were being kind of a jackass to me, so…” she sighed, and smiled contritely. “It was nothing too awful, just typical locker room bitching.”

“Well, I suppose you’ll just have to find a way to make it up to me,” Killian replied, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, and it was Emma’s turn to blush.

“Emma!” Ruby interrupted, throwing her arms around Emma’s neck and burying her face in her shoulder, dramatic sobs issuing from her.

“Sorry, I gotta…” Emma motioned toward her crying friend.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Killian said, bowing ever-so-slightly to her before he turned away.


	3. Chapter 3

It was her first practice since the tournament, and Emma was relieved to finally be back in the water. The past few weeks had been so hectic that she hadn’t been able to make the one practice they’d had since, and she always hated taking time off. She did her usual warm up, and began passing with Mary Margaret and Ruby. It took a few minutes for her muscles to remember the movements, but before long she was making expert passes and not dropping the ball. Her shots were looking good too, firing straight into the corner of the cage, powering past the goalie. She even managed to pull off a few skip shots, without any flopping embarrassingly in the water.

It all went downhill went they started their shooting drills. As they made their way through two lines, Emma discovered that the first person she would have to pass to was Killian, and suddenly she felt her stomach flutter unpleasantly. As she pump faked towards the goal, she felt her heart start beating out of control, and the second she released the ball in Killian’s direction, she knew it was a horrible pass. It sailed about three feet out of his reach, even with his considerable ability to get up out of the water, and she felt a traitorous blush stain her cheeks.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll do it again,” she apologized, and she picked up another ball.

This time was hardly any better, with her pass falling far too low, but he picked it up and shot anyway. Distracted, she fumbled the pass when it came to her, shooting wide of the cage by about a foot. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Emma tried to regain her composure, but it didn’t help. The next time they were up, she might as well have taken a shot right at his head, and she didn’t miss the startled expression on his face as his hand came up quickly to intercept the ball before it could crash into his face painfully. After that, Emma feigned stretching for a few minutes to try to get away from having to pass to Killian, thinking that maybe if she could gain some separation, she would be able to ease her anxiety. It worked to some extent – her passes were better, but she still found herself easily distracted by the thought of Killian’s eyes on her, and she couldn’t seem to get her stomach to stop churning.

David threw the caps out, and Emma found herself on the opposite team as Killian, much to her relief. Until about fifteen minutes into the scrimmage, when Killian called for August to switch positions with him, so that Emma was guarding Killian, and David was guarding August. Emma felt her stomach twist as she placed her hand on Killian’s shoulder, trying to keep her distance from him so he wouldn’t turn her. As she expected, he surged forward, his hand sliding down to her hips and gripping tightly as he pulled her in close, then flipped on his back and pushed off her, sending her drifting in the opposite direction. She swore and turned over her hips, legs kicking quickly to try to keep up, but he had a large head start. She watched as Regina passed to him, and Killian kicked up, his entire chest rising out of the water as he slammed the ball into the back of the net. The whistle blew and everyone turned, swimming toward the other side of the pool. Killian stayed with Emma, his hand wrapped around her bicep as he hovered between her and the goal, ensuring that she wouldn’t get the ball. _Not that it mattered_ , she thought to herself, _she was playing horribly today_. She anticipated David’s shot well, though, and she pushed off away from Killian quickly, determined to prevent his counterattack. She raced down the pool and set up facing him, watching with mounting nerves as he swam toward her, the ball nestled between his elbows. As he reared up, the ball scooped up in his hand, preparing to shoot, Emma felt panic seize her, and before she could stop herself, her fist was connecting with his nose with a sickening _crunch_.

“What the hell, Swan?” he screamed in pain, as blood blossomed from between the fingers that clutched at his face.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Emma replied, horror written on her face. “Killian, I’m so, so sorry.”

She followed him as he made his way to the side of the pool and heaved himself out. One of the lifeguards came running over, but he waved them away, stomping towards the locker room.

“Let me help you,” Emma insisted, following him straight into the men’s locker room without a second thought.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” he answered weakly, but she merely rolled her eyes.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to –“ Emma explained as she gently pressed paper towels to his nose.

“You punched me!” he shrieked, clearly not believing her pleas of accidence.

“I didn’t mean to!” she yelled back, her cheeks flushing again. “You made me nervous!”

“I made you nervous?” Killian repeated, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

“Yes,” Emma admitted with a huff.

“Why on earth would I make you nervous?” he teased, and she marveled at his ability to joke around while nursing a [probably] broken nose.

“I – you just – you’re good, and I – I don’t want you to think that I suck,” Emma struggled to answer, replacing the wad of paper towel in her hand with a fresh one.

“Why do you care what I think of your talents?” he pressed, smiling despite the pain.

“I – I want you to like me,” she answered, her cheeks turning crimson.

“Why?” he continued, sounding like a toddler repeating the question over and over.

“Because I – I just do,” she stated, starting to feel somewhat harassed.

“Well, Swan, I’m not sure punching a man in the face is the most advisable way to win his affections,” he teased, his eyes meeting hers.

“I’m not trying to win anything, I just –“

“You just want me to like you,” he repeated her words, and she nodded dumbly.

“There, I think it’s stopped bleeding,” Emma informed him, pulling the paper towel away from his face to examine the bruising around the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you, Swan,” Killian answered, inclining his head towards her as he strolled back out towards the pool.

“I don’t think you should keep playing!” she called out, utterly astounded by him.

“Wasn’t going to, Swan, you needn’t worry,” he assured her with a grin as she caught up to him. “But I figured I could offer my services as a ref for the remainder of the practice.”

“You don’t think you should go to the hospital?” she questioned.

“The hospital will wait,” he shrugged. “Now try not to punch anyone else, if you please, Swan!”

Killian grabbed the whistle from Graham, and Emma jumped into the pool, shaking her head at this utterly confusing man.


	4. Chapter 4

Emma stood in the hospital waiting room, unsure whether or not Killian was even still there, and if he was how to get to him. She knew very well that only family would be told where to find him, and she was most certainly not that. She fingered her detective* badge lightly, a nervous habit, and in doing so, formulated a plan. She wasn’t sure it would work, she didn’t look the part at all – wet hair, no makeup, yoga pants, and a baggy t-shirt – but it was worth a shot. Looking like she meant business, Emma strode up to the nurses’ station, trying to exude as much confidence as possible.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Killian Jones,” Emma asserted, flashing her badge.

The nurse in front of her eyed her curiously, cocking on eyebrow doubtfully.

“Undercover,” Emma shrugged.

Though the nurse didn’t look terribly convinced, she knew better than to argue with a cop, and nodded toward a set of swinging double doors.

“Through there, emergency room,” she said, making it clear she would not be giving out more information than was strictly necessary.

“Thanks,” Emma acknowledged before rushing through the doors.

She was greeted by the hustle and bustle of doctors flitting in and out of no less than forty bays and private rooms. Emma walked tentatively down the hall, peering past curtains and around nurses to try to find Killian. She was just rounding the first corner when she heard his voice.

“You are not bloody touching it without giving me some bloody drugs first!” he roared, his voice laced with pain.

Emma rushed toward the sound, finding Killian in Bay 5, scowling viciously at a surgeon who looked ready to start poking Killian’s nose with latex-gloved fingers.

“Swan?” he asked, startled by her sudden appearance.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the doctor interrupted, “I’m going to have to ask you to go sit in the waiting room.”

“No, I’d like her to stay,” Killian answered, his tone brooking no argument. The doctor rolled his eyes as he pulled the gloves off with a distinct snap.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes and then, Mr. Jones, we are resetting that nose.”

When he had disappeared from view, Killian turned his attention back to Emma.

“So, Swan, what brings you to my neck of the woods?” he quipped, leaning back against the bed with a cheeky smile. He looked ridiculous, his nose cut and swollen, black-blue bruises already pooling around his eyes.

“Oh, you know, I couldn’t think of anything to do tonight*, so why not go visit the guy I put in the hospital?” she answered sarcastically. Carefully, she stepped forward, smiling at the floor, her fingers toying with the handrails of his bed.

“That’s very considerate of you, Swan,” he said, and Emma wasn’t quite sure whether or not he was teasing her. Then, in a much quieter and more serious voice he added, “You didn’t have to come.”

“Well it was kind of my fault,” she replied, her cheeks flaming.

“Oh, it was entirely your fault, love,” he laughed, though the grimace that appeared on his face after told her it hurt him quite a bit. “And believe me, I will be holding that above your head for quite some time. Anything I need during my recovery…”

“Oh please,” she scoffed, exasperated, “It’s a broken nose, it’s not that bad.”

“I don’t know, Swan, I hear broken nose recovery can be rather difficult,” he grinned.

“Yeah, if you get punched in the nose again,” Emma muttered.

“Don’t worry, love, I’m sure we can find a way for you to repay me,” Killian said with a salacious wink.

Emma opened her mouth to reply, but the doctor chose that moment to return, a nurse pushing a cart full of medical supplies following close behind.

As they injected him with an anesthetic, Emma looked away, but not so much that she missed the whitening of his knuckles as his grip on the bedsheets tightened. When the doctor reached out towards Killian’s nose, Emma watched his eyes close as he prepared for the pain, and she reached out, taking his hand in hers.

She wasn’t sure what made her do it, a weak moment in which her compassion overruled her usual instincts, but as her thin fingers wrapped around his rough hands, electricity shot through her arm, and his blue eyes snapped open, locking on hers before –

_*CRACK*_

“Bloody buggering hell!” Killian swore, his fingers closing on Emma’s so hard she though they might break. “Son of a bitch!”

“There, all finished,” the doctor said, with a sadistic smile, turning to leave. “A nurse will be along shortly to discharge you.”

“How did you get here?” Emma asked, wiggling her fingers to get the blood flowing again. When Killian realized he was still holding her hand, his fingers sprung apart, as though he was burned by the contact.

“David dropped me off,” he answered, determinedly looking anywhere but at Emma.

“And then left?” Emma snorted in astonishment, surprised that David would just leave his friend in the hospital alone.

“He had a date,” Killian shrugged, “which he was understandably loathe to miss, so I assured him I would manage.”

“Would you like a ride home?” she offered, though to be honest she didn’t really want to be with him any longer than necessary. She was having that old urge to run again.

“In that tiny little bug of yours?” he teased, winking cheekily at her. “Well, I suppose it’s the least you could do.”


	5. Chapter 5

Emma sat on the edge of the pool, fiddling with the ball in her hands, occasionally windmilling her arms, trying to loosen up the tightness in her shoulder. It had been bothering her for a few days, since a thief she was chasing hit her with a baseball bat, and the bruise that spread across her shoulder blade was starting to turn an ugly green. She had been hoping that it wouldn’t bother her during practice, but she had been mistaken, and quickly had to sub out. So she sat, holding the counter ball and watching the scrimmage impatiently, wanting desperately to jump in.

Killian was taking a lot of heat from David, who was leaning heavily on his shoulder, not that it really seemed to be affecting him. He looked around, playing with the ball a little as he considered his options, and then passed to Aurora, a new girl, who sat at point, her defender completely dropped off her, though she looked about ready to panic. She was timid, not at all confident, and seemed to only be there because her boyfriend, Phillip, loved to play. There was no one open for her to pass to, and she seemed reluctant to shoot, particularly from so far away.

“Go on, lass, walk it in and shoot,” Killian encouraged suddenly, nodding toward Aurora, who looked at him uncertainly. “You can do it, just get closer and take a shot.”

She slowly moved in closer to the goal, weakly faking at the goalie, and then finally let loose a shot. The ball sailed clear over the goal landing with a splash some fifteen feet behind the net. Emma watched as the players began swimming in the opposite direction, her eyes immediately focused on Killian, as he smiled and offered some words of reassurance to Aurora. It was so nice of him to encourage her the way he had, Emma thought to herself. He could have easily scored if he’d wanted to, she’d seen him play enough to know that no one on their team could really put enough pressure on him to keep him from scoring. But instead, he’d given Aurora the chance, encouraged her, maybe even built up her confidence a little. It was such a simple thing, but Emma found that it thoroughly warmed her heart.

“EMMA!” August yelled from goal, and Emma whipped her head around at the sound of her name. “The ball!”

Confused, Emma looked down at her hands, only to realize that she still held the counter ball securely in her grasp. Her cheeks flushed bright red as she looked around and saw that everyone was looking at her, and she quickly threw the ball in August’s direction. In her haste and embarrassment, the ball landed much farther from him than she would have liked, and her blush darkened. She hid her face in her hands and groaned inwardly, unable to believe how stupid she had been, to get caught staring at Killian with a goofy grin on her face by the _entire_ team.

“What was that?” Mary Margaret asked, slipping out of the water to sit on the sideline next to Emma as Graham dove in.

“Nothing,” Emma answered swiftly, determinedly not looking at her friend.

“You like him, don’t you?” Mary Margaret said bluntly.

“No,” Emma denied, her voice firm, but she still refused to look at her friend.

“Don’t do this, Emma, don’t put your walls up again,” Mary Margaret implored, and Emma finally turned to look at her fried.

“I’m not putting any walls up,” she replied, trying her best to mean everything she was saying. “I just don’t like him that way, he’s not my type.”

“Oh sure, ‘cause he’s hot, sweet, and super talented, what’s not to like?” Mary Margaret countered, smiling smugly because she knew she was right. The more Emma denied her feelings about Killian, the more sure Mary Margaret was that they were there.

“Can we drop this?” Emma pleaded. “Otherwise I’m going to have to tell David that you think Killian is hot.”

“Oh he knows,” Mary Margaret stated, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, “David thinks he’s hot too.”

“Oh god,” Emma groaned, sliding into the water and signaling for someone to sub out. She would rather put up with the shoulder pain than continue having this conversation with Mary Margaret.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So it’s just the epilogue to go after this, and that’s already written, but I’m gonna space it out a little bit and wait til Sunday to post it, I think. Enjoy!

Emma walked up the path that led to the navy door, her stomach doing flips as she alternated between excitement at seeing Killian again and anxiety. She wasn’t quite ready to admit her feelings for him yet, but she knew they were there, as much as she might try to hide it. He had invited the team over to his house to watch the Olympic finals, though Emma had a sneaking suspicion that it was really just to that he could spend time with her. She knocked gently on the door, and it swung open within seconds, David greeting her with a warm smile.

“Come on in, Emma,” he said, standing aside, “everyone else is here for the most part, game’s about to start.”

“Thanks, I brought some cookies,” she answered, awkwardly holding out the tupperware container in her hands.

“You can just put them on the kitchen counter,” David told her, turning his attention back to the group of people gathered around the tv.

With a conspiratorial glance at Mary Margaret, Ruby vacated her seat next to Killian, nodding toward Emma to encourage her to take over, and Emma felt like she was shaking as she made her way across the room to the spot on the couch.

“Hi,” Emma said softly to Killian, flashing a shy smile in his direction.

“Hey,” he answered, and she could feel his eyes on her, even as she kept her own carefully trained on the tv.

Before either of them could say more, the screen shifted to show the athletes lining up by the pool, awaiting their introductions. The whole group watched the game relatively uneventfully, although Emma learned that Killian was just as vocal a spectator as she was. The sight of him sitting on the edge of his seat with clenched fists, yelling at the tv somehow warmed her heart – it was just so endearing. She found herself watching him more that the game, and she missed several key plays because she was much more interested in seeing Killian’s eyes light up.

When the game was over, they flicked the tv off, and the party began in earnest, liquor flowing through red plastic cups into their bellies, swirling in their minds. As the sky grew darker, the party got wilder, and boundaries began to be crossed. Emma was not alone in feeling her brain grow fuzzy and thick, in feeling like everything was a good idea. Ruby and Victor were the first to give into temptation, sneaking off to make out in a dark corner of the yard where they thought no one could see them. Emma felt her liquor-addled mine telling her that it might not be such a bad idea to follow in their footsteps, but she tried to resist.

“Hey David,” she asked, nearly tipping sideways as she tried to stand, “where’s your bathroom?”

“Upstairs, on the right,” he answered, not taking his eyes off Mary Margaret, who was sitting in his lap, running her hands through his hair.

Emma climbed the stairs quickly, needing to clear her mind before she could rejoin the group downstairs. As she reached the landing, she looked at the three doors to her right, all of which were closed, and took a guess as to which one was the bathroom. She knocked on the door, and when there was no answer, she pushed it open a little. The lights were off, so she figured there was no one inside, and she stepped in, her hand groping along the wall for the light switch as she shut the door behind her. When she finally managed to flip the lights on, she found that she was not in the bathroom after all, but what was clearly Killian’s bedroom. Even though she knew that she shouldn’t, curiosity got the better of her, and she stepped farther into the room.

The room was sparsely decorated, but very neat, and she could easily imagine him making his bed every morning after he got up. A painting of a ship at sea hung on the wall next to his bed, and Emma could tell that it was hand-painted, not a print. Emma crossed to the bed to take a closer look at the painting, but as she did, something caught her attention. On the nightstand, there was a framed photograph, the only one she could see in the room, of Killian and a man who looked so like him, and she vaguely recognized him as his brother. In the picture though, Killian was much younger, obviously taken years ago, and Emma picked it up as she wondered what was so special about this picture, why there wasn’t a more recent one or what it was about this particular day. She noticed that the frame had been sitting on top of a letter, folded up, and once more curiosity got the best of her. Emma picked up the piece of paper and opened it up, her eyes scanning it quickly.

_Mr Jones,_

_We would be delighted if you would join us on May 7 th in Santa Clara for a friendly against the Hungarian national team. We feel that you may be a good fit for our team, and would like to see how you may fit in prior to Olympic selection. If you should choose to join us, we will provide necessary accommodations. Please let us know your decision at your earliest convenience. We hope to see you soon._

_The Coaching Staff_

_US Men’s National Team_

Emma stared at the letter in her hands, unable to believe what she had read, not because she didn’t believe he was good enough, she knew that he was, but because she couldn’t believe he wouldn’t take that opportunity. She knew for a fact that he hadn’t gone to California that week because he had been here, they had had a team dinner that week.

“Its not polite to snoop,” a voice said quietly behind her, and Emma turned around suddenly to see Killian standing in the doorway.

“I’m sorry,” Emma answered, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “I was looking for the bathroom and I went into the wrong room and I –“

“You were curious,” he finished for her, and she nodded, feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

“Why didn’t you go?” she asked, to break the silence, holding up the letter she still held in her hand.

“Sorry?” Killian stepped into the room, closer to her, and she could feel his presence palpably.

“To California. For the tryout. Why didn’t you go?”

“Ah,” he hummed, scratching behind his ear, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “I just didn’t feel like it was the best place for me to be, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” Emma pressed, needing to understand for a reason she couldn’t explain.

“There are things here, people here,” he clarified, “that I would be loathe to part with.” Killian looked up at her, and Emma could see the meaning written in his deep blue eyes.

“You stayed for me?” she asked, completely astounded that he would give up so much for her. “But we’re not…we’re not even…we’re not anything to each other,” she stumbled, knowing in her heart that those words were not quite true.

“Maybe not, but I couldn’t give up the chance that we might be some day,” he said, maintaining eye contact so that he could see that he meant every word he said.

“You gave up all the chance to be on the national team for the chance to be with me?” she asked, trying to wrap her head around what he was saying.

“Aye,” he answered, standing so close to her now that she was breathing his air, his scent.

Emma leaned forward, listening to the feeling in her heart that told her to jump, until her lips were touching his, just light pressure, waiting to see how he would respond. It took him barely a second to register what she had done, and then his arms were wrapped around her, one hand tangling in her curls, pulling her closer to him. It was a slow, languid kiss, warm and tender and more loving than anything Emma had ever felt before. Her fingers wound through the hair at the nape of his neck, leaning into the kiss before pulling away and resting her forehead against his, a smile playing on both their lips. Killian’s fingers toyed with her hair, curling through it, before running over her jaw line and resting in the dimple on her chin. Emma smiled wider, sinking back into him, letting her lips meet his again, relishing in the feeling of it – he felt like home.


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Of course this would be the longest chapter. Oops. Also sorry, the end isn't that great, I'm not super happy with it, but I just don't have the brainpower to get it right at the moment. There's some notes at the end too. Enjoy!

Killian walked out on deck, his heart pounding in his chest as he followed his teammate, his USA sweatshirt suddenly feeling far too tight. He was nervous, more nervous than he’d ever been, even though he’d been playing with this team for well over a year. But this was different, it was the Olympics, and this match would decide who went home with a gold medal, and who would have to content themselves with silver. He was safe in the knowledge that win or lose, he would be up on the podium with his teammates, but it was doing little to reassure him in that moment.

Killian looked up into the stands, searching the faces in the crowd, far more people there than he was used to seeing. He knew her seats ought to be toward the front, since she was in the family section, but he was still having a hard time finding her. He was too far away, on the other side of the pool, he just couldn’t make out faces.

“Messieurs et mesdames, votre attention s’il vous plait. C’est notre plaisire de vous présenter l’eéquipe nationale des États Unis,” the announcers voice broadcasted through the stadium. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is our pleasure to introduce to you the United States national team. Numéro cinq, le capitaine – number five, the captain, Novak Marshall!”

The team captain sauntered onto the platform, exuding confidence as he waved to the crowd, smiling broadly and taking his place at the center.

“Numéro un, number one, Cole Haber!” the announcer continued, “Numéro deux, number two, Jake McCabe! Numéro trois, number three, Arden Walker! Numéro quatre, number four, Rolan Schultes! Numéro six, number six, Troy Tash! Numéro sept, number seven, Avery Hurst! Numéro huit, number eight, Mitchell Emmett! Numéro neuf, number nine, Killian Jones!”

Killian stepped forward, bouncing up the two steps to the platform, and walked towards the center, waving and smiling as he made his way to join his teammates. He stood, looking out across the pool, still straining his eyes as he searched the crowd, but it was to no avail. In an irrational moment of panic, he thought she might not have come, but that was silly, he told himself, she would never miss this.

“Numéro dix, number ten, Lavern Berry! Numéro onze, number eleven, Connor Sartini! Numéro douze, number twelve, Samuel Fodor! Et numéro treize, number thirteen, Mario Akers!”

When all thirteen players were standing on the platform, the national anthem began playing, and Killian felt it moving his heart, motivating him to play his best. When the final note had concluded, the announcers began introducing the opponents. Killian focused his attention on the far end of the pool, trying to mentally prepare himself for the game.

At last, the Serbian team was introduced, and their national anthem played, and the athletes were sent to take their places. Killian followed his teammates down off the platform, and around the side of the pool, his eyes scanning the crowd even more fervently as he got closer to the stands. He still couldn’t see her, and it was killing him, increasing his nerves tenfold. She had missed very few games since he made the national team, and he always played worse when she wasn’t there. She was his good luck charm.

“Hey, Killian are you listening?” Novak had his dark eyes trained on Killian, who had still been facing the crowd, evidently missing part of the pep talk.

“Sorry,” he answered, shaking his head a little to try to get his head in the game.

“Alright, starters in,” Novak commanded, leaping into the pool himself and splashing them all with cool water.

“You good, bro?” Mitchell asked, nudging Killian’s arm with his elbow, as they both pulled their caps on.

“I can’t see her,” he whispered, aware of the note of desperate that flecked his voice. “I’m not sure that she’s here…”

“Don’t worry, man, I’m sure she’ll be here,” his friend replied, giving Killian a hard thump on the back before jumping into the pool.

“I hope so,” Killian murmured to himself, allowing one last look back into the stands before he dove headfirst into the pool.

The moment his head was submerged in the water, he felt calm overcome him. This was his element, his zone, this was where he was unbeatable. Still, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was off as he dolphin kicked his water underwater toward the goal. He surfaced about a foot from where he needed to be, and quickly took a stroke to get in position. Killian floated, his feet out behind him, kicking softly, hands backpedaling to keep himself in place, his face half submerged so that only his eyes were showing.

The whistle sounded and Killian took off, sprinting as fast as he could toward the ball floating in the center of the pool. His fingertips touched the rough surface of the ball and he rolled his hand around it, flipping it back toward Novak, who he knew was following close behind, and continued to power forward. He had taken barely two strokes before he felt his guard’s hand checking his shoulder, trying to keep him as far from the two-meter line as possible, but Killian shouldered his way through. He set up just outside of the two-meter line, wrestling his way to face his team and open himself up for a pass. His guard, a man called Zoran Ilić, clearly thought that Killian was someone who could be easily manipulated, given that he was much smaller than the average center, but Killian had every intention of proving that was a mistake. He felt Ilić’s hand twist into his speedo, pulling the fabric uncomfortably tight, but Killian knew exactly how to deal with that. He made eye contact with Sam Fodor, who had the ball up at flat, and nodded once. In a practiced motion, Killian jabbed his elbow back and under the ribs of Ilić, pushing off his chest hard enough that he was sure to leave a bruise. As he pushed away from his defender, the ball landed with a splash at Killian’s fingertips. He scooped it up and spun in a quick motion, propelling the ball toward the goal, and with a loud ping, it hit the post and bounced out of bounds. Killian swore violently and turned over his hips, hurrying to make it to the other end of the pool to defend. His guard was faster than he had expected, however, and quickly got away from him, despite Killian’s best efforts to catch up. He watched in horror as Ilić drove through the middle, rearing up to catch a pass dry and then slam the ball home. He felt his stomach plummet as the scoreboard lit up to show a 1-0 lead for Serbia, and it was his fault. Unable to help himself, Killian glanced over toward the crowd, but this time, his face lit up.

Finally, he saw her… _Emma_. As her name ran through his mind it was like he could suddenly breathe again, the sight of her cheering him on pumping invigorating oxygen through his veins. She was on the edge of her seat, he could tell, wearing one of his USA Water Polo shirts, and she held their little boy on her lap. As soon as she saw him looking at her, her face lit up, and she grabbed on of their son’s chubby little hands and waved it at him. Killian couldn’t help but smile to himself, and he felt ready to play at last.

When the whistle blew, Killian tossed the ball back quickly to Novak, and pushed forward toward the two-meter. Once more Ilić began checking him, this time more aggressively, locking on to Killian’s biceps and digging his fingers into the muscle. Killian broke his hold and spun, slapping the water to indicate that he wanted the ball, and Jake McCabe obliged. As the ball landed in front of Killian, Ilić cheated over to his left shoulder, and Killian smiled, all too happy to adjust his strategy. He turned his hand outward as he gripped the ball and fired it behind him without looking, but he knew immediately that he’d hit his target. He turned just in time to watch the ball hit the netting in the top corner, noise erupting in the stands. Killian pumped his fist in the air, unable to contain his excitement.

From that point on, Killian was absolutely unstoppable. He scored again and again, assisted his teammates, and crushed the defense. The final whistle blew, and Killian nearly sobbed, he was so happy. It was by no means a blow out, Serbia had definitely fought until the end, but ultimately came up two goals shy of gold. The US men piled on top of each other in the water, hugging and slapping backs and roaring their excitement. After a few moments, the seven men who were in the water managed to climb out of the pool and join their teammates on the sideline, all melding together in a giant group hug. As they began to break apart a few moments later, Killian vaulted up to the stands bounding over the railing to where Emma was trying very hard not to jump up and down with the baby. He leaned over the bars keeping them apart and pressed a kiss to her lips, perhaps more enthusiastically than he should have, given the amount of cameras focused on him and his teammates.

“Killian! Killian!” Emma laughed into his lips, pulling back a little. “You have to go get your medal! We’ll be here.”

He leaned in for one last kiss, and pressed one on the top of his son’s head, before jumping down, still utterly speechless. He ran across the deck to wear his teammates were pulling on their Team USA sweats, and he quickly grabbed his, tugging the pants on first, and then zipping his sweatshirt up, though he left enough of it open to see a healthy dose of chest hair. As he dressed, Killian was unable to stop himself from glancing up into the stands every few seconds, the proud smile on Emma’s face giving him life.

Killian walked with the rest of his team over to the podiums, standing in line and waiting his turn. The Australian team took the podium first, happily clutching their bronze medals as they were announced one by one. Next, the Serbians were presented with their medals and called forward, though they looked much less pleased than their counterparts from the land down under. At last, the announcers called Team USA forward, going through the lineup one by one, announcing their name while a gold medal was hung around their neck. When Killian’s turn came, he stepped up onto the podium, ducking down so that the attendant could reach his neck, and he was surprised to find that the medal was much heavier than it looked as it hung against his chest. He waited patiently, beaming up at Emma, for the rest of his teammates to get their medals. After a few more minutes, the national anthem began playing, and Killian put his hand over his heart, staring up at the flag waving opposite him. He felt his heart squeeze, happiness and honor and gratitude flowing through his entire being as he thought about how lucky he was to be in this position and all the people who had supported him to get him to this moment. The tears started welling up in his eyes, and Killian’s other hand came up to brush them away, and he saw that he was not the only one. Several of his teammates appeared to be experiencing similar emotions. The music stopped, and all three teams waved to the crowd amid an abundance of cheers before stepping down from the podium.

Before they had to make their way to the pressroom for interviews and commentary, Killian darted over to the stands, wrapping Emma in a tearful hug and holding his son close. He showered them both with kisses, a little overwhelmed by the moment and the amount of happiness he felt.

“I love you,” he whispered in Emma’s ear, and she responded with a very enthusiastic kiss.

Everything was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N (pt ii): Why Paris? Well, I wanted to do the 2020 Olympics, but they’re in Tokyo, and I don’t speak a word of Japanese. But, Paris is one of the four finalists for the 2024 Olympics, so I decided to go with that. Also, some of you might object that Killian in most fics is British (for obvious reasons), and I’m making the executive decision that at least in this fic, his father is American, so he has US citizenship as well.


End file.
